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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407287">Forgotten (And Now Gone)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong'>RushingHeadlong</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Post-1991, Time Skips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:41:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They were a matching set: Freddie's white Telecaster and Brian's black one. </p>
<p>Brian had asked once, mostly joking, why Freddie used the white one. <i>Wasn't that always my color? The white nail polish, and the White Queen... </i></p>
<p>And Freddie had kissed Brian sweetly on the cheek as he answered, <i>That's exactly the point, my darling.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Freddie Mercury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Forgotten (And Now Gone)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Loosely inspired by Brian’s story in the Rock Montreal Commentary about the guitars used in Crazy Little Thing Called Love, where he mentions that he still has his black Telecaster but that Freddie’s white one was stolen. </p>
<p>Beyond that, I don’t actually know what this fic is and I don’t know if I’m entirely happy with how it turned out, but I hope the essence of what I was going for is still clear.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>1997</strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p>It’s Jim Beach who calls to give them the news about the break-in. The situation is already well in hand and the initial police report has already been filed, but the storage facility is large enough that it’ll take some time to figure out exactly what got stolen from it. Truthfully, the place is so large that Brian doesn’t even know what all they’re keeping in there these days, and he’s not sure what to expect as he heads into the meeting a week later to discuss the findings of the rapid inventorying of their old odds-and-ends.</p>
<p>It’s just him and Roger meeting with Jim today; John had gotten the invite but had declined to join them. He’s taking his new retirement seriously, it seems, and it’s becoming harder and harder to get him to show up to things in person. No doubt Jim will keep him in the loop but John’s absence stings nonetheless. Brian is still learning the new shape of Queen with the hole left behind by Freddie’s absence, and he’s not sure he’s ready to learn what this band will look like if it’s broken down even further.</p>
<p>“This shouldn’t take too long. We just need to confirm that none of the missing items are actually with you so we can send an accurate list to the police,” Jim says as he shuffles through the papers in front of him.</p>
<p>“How much did they even take?” Roger asks as he drums his fingers on the table. “You said this was only a minor break-in.”</p>
<p>“It was. It seems like they only grabbed the first few things they could put their hands on,” Jim explains. “But unfortunately, that included a few instruments too.”</p>
<p>“Shit.”</p>
<p>Jim nods slightly in agreement and finally finds the paper that he was looking for. “Ah, here we are… Let’s see, one of John’s basses, I’ll have to ask him about that… Some of the sound equipment and cables-”</p>
<p>“I don’t have any of our old sound equipment at my place,” Roger interrupts.</p>
<p>Brian shakes his head. “Nor do I.”</p>
<p>“One pair of Paiste hi-hat cymbals,” Jim says, looking up at Roger.</p>
<p>“<em>Paiste</em>?” Roger echoes, with a slight frown. “I haven’t used Paiste cymbals in <em>ages</em>. If those got nicked, they can keep ‘em.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that’s quite the sentiment we want to give to the police, but I’ll note that you don’t have them,” Jim says dryly. “And lastly…”</p>
<p>Jim hesitates, his eyes flicking up to meet Brian’s just for a split-second before he glances back down at the list in his hands. Brian can feel his stomach start to twist with anxiety as he tries to think of anything that’s specifically <em>his</em> that could have been in that storage unit, but he’s drawing an absolute blank.</p>
<p>“What is it?” Roger asks, impatiently. “What else did they take?”</p>
<p>Jim takes a deep breath and gives Brian an apologetic look. “Freddie’s white Telecaster.”</p>
<p>And in that moment, Brian swears that he can feel his heart stop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>1983</strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p>Freddie never comes out and says it, but Brian knows that he bought the white Telecaster as an apology.</p>
<p>Brian has owned his Tele for years now. He bought it new in ‘79 and has played it on every tour since then, because Freddie insists on that particular sound for his song and Brian can never say no to him. That doesn’t stop him from poking fun at it all sometimes, cracking jokes at the inherent ridiculousness having this guitar not even for an entire song but just a small fraction of one. Freddie always goes along with the teasing, thanking Brian for his “noble sacrifice” and kissing him playfully until Brian, laughing, pulls him closer and kisses him back properly.</p>
<p>Except lately, the comments have become a bit more pointed, the jabs a little less friendly. Brian complains about the Telecaster and Freddie tells him to stop whinging, and Brian accuses him of being “fucking demanding” and Freddie calls him “a control freak who never lets others make decisions on their own songs”, and Brian storms out and almost doesn’t come back at all.</p>
<p>It’s the damn album that’s getting between them - the album, and the studio in the basement of their hotel so they never have to see the light of day, and the city with too many clubs to draw Freddie’s attention when Brian retreats further into himself. It’s too late to change any of that, though, too late to switch plans and studios and everything else, and after a while it becomes pointless to even keep fighting about those things.</p>
<p>So the fights pivot but they don’t stop, because Brian still needs the outlet that they provide. He still needs some way to expel everything that’s choking him from the inside out, all the emotions that get caught in his throat when he tries to raise them in a calm manner, all his insecurities that he should have gotten over years ago that are now rising up and threatening to swallow him whole again.</p>
<p>The arguments aren’t about the guitar, not really. It’s about Brian feeling pushed out of the band, pushed out of Freddie’s life, the bare-bones of his identity being stripped away until he can’t tell which way is up to even begin pulling himself back into the light. Is he still Freddie’s boyfriend if they sleep in separate hotel rooms most nights? Is Queen still a rock band if they’re playing disco?</p>
<p>Is Brian still the same guitarist if his Old Lady gets left on the sidelines?</p>
<p>The white Telecaster isn’t the only apology. It’s not even the most important one that they exchange when they start to lose their anger and start to find their way back to each other. But there <em>is</em> an apology there, in the sight of the white Tele sitting side-by-side with Brian’s black one, complimenting each other as if they had been bought as a matching set from the start - but with an iron backbone in it too, a refusal from Freddie to compromise this part of his song.</p>
<p>Brian would never want Freddie to compromise on this anyway. It’s just a guitar, after all, just a single song in a two-hour show, a scant few minutes that pass almost unnoticed but make all the difference in the overall sound that they produce.</p>
<p>But now, it’s a few minutes where Freddie will be joining Brian in that sound. Two matching Teles on stage, instead of just a single lone one. A small change, maybe insignificantly so in the eyes of everyone else… but it’s a change that speaks volumes to Brian, a change that makes it clear that Freddie <em>knows</em> everything that Brian still can’t bring himself to say, a change that makes Brian kiss Freddie, deeply and desperately and with tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and makes him feel that finally, <em>finally</em> they’ve made it back to each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>1998</strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p>The photographer suggests getting some photos in front of the glass-fronted display cabinets that house his guitar collection and Brian balks, just for a moment. He’s been avoiding that section of the house recently, but it’s a reasonable place for the photographer to want to use as a backdrop, so despite his heartache Brian finally acquiesces.</p>
<p>It’s been almost a year since Queen’s storage facility was broken into and the police haven’t recovered any of the stolen items. That doesn’t make much difference to Roger or John; neither of them were fussed about the specific instruments that were stolen from them, and the missing sound equipment was outdated even before Freddie died and killed Queen’s hopes of ever touring again.</p>
<p>But the loss of Freddie’s white Telecaster still stings, still tears at Brian’s heart when he stops to consider it, still manages to steal his breath away when he looks at the black Tele that will likely never be reunited with its partner again.</p>
<p>“Brian, can you move a little bit closer to the cabinet?” the photographer calls out and Brian shifts accordingly, though his thoughts are still miles and years away.</p>
<p>He wonders if it’s strange to be this upset about a lost instrument that Freddie hardly ever played - but then again, the instruments themselves were always a strange little footnote in their lives anyway.</p>
<p>The guitars meant everything at the time and, somehow, almost nothing at all as well. They were an apology, a commitment, a reminder of where they came from and a promise to stick together to see how far they could still go… but at the end of the day, they were still just another part of the equipment for their tour. Brian still had his Red Special, after all, and Freddie had any number of acoustic guitars that he would reach for at home if he needed to puzzle something out. Really, it was only a fluke that Brian decided to bring the black Tele home after the last tour instead of having it sent to storage with everything else.</p>
<p>“Alright, Brian, let’s change it up a bit now, maybe move over this way…”</p>
<p>Brian thinks he remembers Freddie making an off-hand remark about wanting to grab his white Tele from storage - but, obviously, that never happened. And now Brian isn’t even sure <em>why</em> they never got around to doing that. He can’t blame it on the stress of the diagnosis and the final albums and Freddie’s last years, because he’s almost certain that it slipped their mind long before they knew that any of that was waiting for them just over the horizon. It was just a guitar, after all - or at least, that’s all it was back then.</p>
<p>Back when they thought they would tour again in a year or two. Back when Brian didn’t need to cling to the detritus of their life to remember everything they used to have together. Back when he still had <em>Freddie</em> to hold onto, and thought he would have him forever.</p>
<p>“That should do it,” the photographer says as he lowers his camera. “I think I got everything I need, unless there are more shots you want…?”</p>
<p>“No, no, this was fine,” Brian says quickly, ignoring how his joints creak in protest when he stands. He refuses to admit that he’s getting old, because he’s not ready to admit that he’s going to be growing old alone.</p>
<p>He casts one last look at the lone black Telecaster, adrift amongst a sea of Red Special replicas and gifted guitars that have never seen any use. He swallows down his grief before it can find a hold over him again, and plasters on a fake smile on his face as he shows the photographer out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>1985</strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p>They had been arguing about the setlist for what felt like <em>hours</em>.</p>
<p>“Play the hits,” Geldof had said, but Queen had so many hits to their name that it still felt like an impossible task to narrow them down to just a handful.</p>
<p>The opening and closing of their set was the easiest part to figure out. Deacy had pushed <em>hard</em> for Another One Bites the Dust to get added as well, but in the end they decided to include two songs from their newest album instead while the songs were still fresh in everyone’s mind. That left one spot to fill and to everyone’s surprise, Freddie put his foot down and insisted on Crazy Little Thing Called Love.</p>
<p>“Fred, we only have twenty minutes,” Roger says, though none of them need the reminder. Every decision they’ve made with this has been weighed against that invisible clock and their conversation over the setlists has been interrupted multiple times by an argument over how much time a particular song would <em>really </em>take up. “And you’d have to switch to a guitar for this song-”</p>
<p>“Ratty will have it waiting for me,” Freddie says, waving one hand dismissively. “And besides, aren’t you always complaining that we start the song too fast? We’ll have plenty of time to change instruments and still finish the song, don’t you worry.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but that still means bringing an extra guitar along for the show,” Roger says.</p>
<p>“Two, counting Brian’s Telecaster,” John points out. “Three with the acoustic-”</p>
<p>“No, no, we’ll need the acoustic anyway for later in the evening,” Freddie is quick to remind them. “And we’re already bringing an extra guitar for Spike to use during Hammer to Fall, so what’s the harm in bringing the Teles along as well?”</p>
<p>Roger grumbles something under his breath but it’s John who gives Brian a shrewd look and says, “You’re being awful quiet about this, Brian. Usually you’re the first to pipe up and complain about switching out for the Telecaster.”</p>
<p>Brian shrugs. He doesn’t know how to explain that the guitar is different now, that it’s more bearable to play it when Freddie has his as well. He doesn’t know how to talk about what it means to look over at Freddie and see him with a matching Telecaster, black and white paired together again, as if they had returned to 1974 and brought a piece of that aesthetic back with them into the present.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know how describe how he feels when he glances at Freddie during Crazy Little Thing Called Love and sees that amused twinkle in his eyes that says that he <em>knows</em> what Brian is thinking about. The Telecasters are their little secret to share, a brief symbol of their love flashed shamelessly to the entire audience, even though no one knows how to recognize the guitars for what they really mean.</p>
<p>Why <em>wouldn’t</em> he want that included in their Live Aid set?</p>
<p>“I think Fred’s right. The song would fit nicely into that gap in the setlist, and I don’t think any other song would work as well,” Brian says evenly.</p>
<p>Freddie’s smile turns a little brighter, and a little more smug, and even as Roger rolls his eyes and John tries to make one more cause for his own song Brian has a feeling that they’ll definitely be bringing their two Teles to Wembley on the 13th.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>2007</strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p>The loss of Freddie’s Telecaster never really stops hurting.</p>
<p>It’s been a decade since it was stolen, since they were robbed of this piece of Freddie, and Brian knows that they aren’t getting the guitar back now. He’s accepted that, at least as best as he can, but the heartache or it all never completely fades away.</p>
<p>It’s there every time he sees his own Tele, forever confined to its spot in the display case because Brian can’t bring himself to play it again even though they’re touring again these days.</p>
<p>It’s there every time Brian stumbles across some forgotten piece of Queen history and he’s reminded of just how <em>easy</em> it is to lose track of even the most important mementos of his life with Freddie.</p>
<p>And it’s there now, as Brian sits next to Roger to provide a commentary track for this ancient piece of Queen concert footage, and on the screen in front of them the spotlight focuses on Freddie as he walks into the center of the stage now holding an acoustic guitar.</p>
<p>It’s strange to see Freddie like this, in the peak of health in the 80s, and <em>not</em> playing his Telecaster. Brian forgets, sometimes, when he looks back on the years with rose-tinted glasses, that Freddie only used the Tele for a handful of tours. He forgets that the guitar shouldn’t be anything more than <em>just</em> a guitar, like his Telecaster is <em>just</em> another Telecaster without its mate.</p>
<p>Brian had asked once, mostly joking, why Freddie used the white one. <em>Wasn't that always my color? The white nail polish, and the White Queen...</em></p>
<p>And Freddie had kissed Brian sweetly on the cheek as he answered, <em>That's exactly the point, my darling.</em></p>
<p>And maybe, by that same logic, that means there should be a piece of Freddie in his own Telecaster - but there isn’t. That piece of Freddie, those unspoken promises that they made to each other, only existed in Freddie’s Tele. Brian’s guitar doesn’t hold anything but the memories of everything he’s lost - memories that threaten to overwhelm Brian now as he watches this past version of himself appear onstage with the black Telecaster.</p>
<p>“That was unusual to play a Tele,” Brian says.</p>
<p>Roger gives him a sideways look. He knows where Brian is going with this, but he doesn’t interrupt. He can’t anyway, not when they’re in the middle of recording the commentary track like this.</p>
<p>“Always took it ‘round on tour just for that solo, which is quite funny,” Brian continues as he thinks back on how he used to tease Freddie about just that thing, before Munich and Hot Space and the white Telecaster offered up as an unspoken apology. “Still have that guitar - but we <em>don’t</em> have the white Telecaster which Freddie used to play at times… It got stolen at some point and I guess it’s hiding away some place in somebody’s collection…”</p>
<p>There’s a part of Brian that hopes, stupidly, illogically <em>hopes</em>, that by telling this story they might get the guitar back. That some fan knows what they have and will be moved by their guilt to return Freddie’s Telecaster even after all these years.</p>
<p>He knows that’s unlikely to happen, and he knows how dangerous it is to even get his hopes up after all these years - but even having these faintest of dreams crushed can’t hurt more than the reality of the situation already does.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>1986</strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p>Brian likes the way the Telecasters look, sitting side by side like this, stark contrasts coming together to make a perfect match. He likes that the two of them together make a little reminder of where they started out, the sleek white and gleaming black evoking memories of Freddie in his black jumpsuits and Brian in his white angel-wing tunic, back when they thought accompanying Mott on tour to America was the height of stardom.</p>
<p>Now, they’re about to play to a sold-out Knebworth Park, over a hundred thousand people waiting for them to take the stage. Brian doesn’t know that he could ask for a better end to the tour, even if he is more excited to simply be able to go home and spend some time relaxing with Freddie.</p>
<p>He feels someone brush against his arm and he knows that it’s Freddie even before he glances over at the singer, a faint smile already curling at the corner of his mouth. “Hi there. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the show?”</p>
<p>“I could ask you the same question,” Freddie says. He presses closer to Brian’s side and asks, a little quieter, “What are you thinking about, my love?”</p>
<p>Too many things, really. Their show later that night. The long break they have planned afterwards. The guitars, and Freddie, and where they came from and where they might still end up going from here. Brian often thinks of the future in bleak and uncertain terms but right now it seems bright and full of possibilities - or maybe it just seems that way because Brian is remembering being 28 and scared of how his life could turn out, but still knowing that as long as he had Freddie at his side they’d be okay.</p>
<p>And they are okay. Better than, even, and Brian is filled with an unusual optimism as he thinks of everything that the next decade could hold for the two of them.</p>
<p>“Brian?” Freddie prompts when Brian is quiet for a moment too long.</p>
<p>“Do you ever think about switching guitars?”</p>
<p>Brian didn’t know he was going to ask that question until he opened his mouth and it just fell out, and it’s clear by the way Freddie tilts his head in confusion that he wasn’t expecting it either.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Freddie asks.</p>
<p>“I mean, white used to always be my color, wasn’t it?” Brian says. “With the white nail polish and the White Queen and everything else, I mean.”</p>
<p>Freddie laughs lightly and says, “Darling, that’s <em>exactly</em> the point. The white one is mine now… and the black one is yours, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>And Brian can read between the lines to know exactly what Freddie is getting at, without him needing to spell it out any more than that. He grins down at Freddie and says, “Yeah. And I’m going to hold onto mine forever, you know.”</p>
<p>“That’s perfect, because I’ve grown quite fond of mine too, you know,” Freddie teases. He takes Brian’s hand in his and asks, “So will you <em>please</em> come back to the dressing room with me now and stop moping out here by yourself?”</p>
<p>Brian laughs and squeezes Freddie’s hand. “Whatever you want, Fred.”</p>
<p>Freddie leans up and kisses Brian’s cheek gently in a silent thanks before leading Brian away from the guitars, neither of them caring if anyone is around to see that they’re still holding hands - because as long as they have each other, neither of them is ever going to let that go.</p>
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